MABEL CHILTERN. Lord Goring, you are always ordering me out of the room. I think it most courageous of you. Especially as I am not going to bed for hours. [_Goes over to the sofa_.] You can come and sit down if you like, and talk about anything in the world, except the Royal Academy, Mrs. Cheveley, or novels in Scotch dialect. They are not improving subjects. [_Catches sight of something that is lying on the sofa half hidden by the cushion_.] What is this? Some one has dropped a diamond brooch! Quite beautiful, isn’t it? [_Shows it to him_.] I wish it was mine, but Gertrude won’t let me wear anything but pearls, and I am thoroughly sick of pearls. They make one look so plain, so good and so intellectual. I wonder whom the brooch belongs to. LORD GORING. I wonder who dropped it. MABEL CHILTERN. It is a beautiful brooch. LORD GORING. It is a handsome bracelet. MABEL CHILTERN. It isn’t a bracelet. It’s a brooch. LORD GORING. It can be used as a bracelet. [_Takes it from her_, _and_, _pulling out a green letter-case_, _puts the ornament carefully in it_, _and replaces the whole thing in his breast-pocket with the most perfect sang froid_.] MABEL CHILTERN. What are you doing? LORD GORING. Miss Mabel, I am going to make a rather strange request to you. MABEL CHILTERN. [_Eagerly_.] Oh, pray do! I have been waiting for it all the evening. LORD GORING. [_Is a little taken aback_, _but recovers himself_.] Don’t mention to anybody that I have taken charge of this brooch. Should any one write and claim it, let me know at once. MABEL CHILTERN. That is a strange request. LORD GORING. Well, you see I gave this brooch to somebody once, years ago. MABEL CHILTERN. You did? LORD GORING. Yes. [LADY CHILTERN _enters alone_. _The other guests have gone_.] MABEL CHILTERN. Then I shall certainly bid you good-night. Good-night, Gertrude! [_Exit_.] LADY CHILTERN. Good-night, dear! [_To_ LORD GORING.] You saw whom Lady Markby brought here to-night? LORD GORING. Yes. It was an unpleasant surprise. What did she come here for? LADY CHILTERN. Apparently to try and lure Robert to uphold some fraudulent scheme in which she is interested. The Argentine Canal, in fact. LORD GORING. She has mistaken her man, hasn’t she? LADY CHILTERN. She is incapable of understanding an upright nature like my husband’s! LORD GORING. Yes. I should fancy she came to grief if she tried to get Robert into her toils. It is extraordinary what astounding mistakes clever women make. LADY CHILTERN. I don’t call women of that kind clever. I call them stupid! LORD GORING. Same thing often. Good-night, Lady Chiltern! LADY CHILTERN. Good-night! [_Enter_ SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.] SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. My dear Arthur, you are not going? Do stop a little!